


Christmas in February

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Birthday Party, Cockblocking, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Ruki is 100 percent done, Uruha is a little shit, what happened last night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which tequila and doorbells aren't the only cock-blockers around.</p><p>Or:  Kai is an emoticon-wielding sadist,  Ruki's mouth is a hazmat situation, Reita has cold toes, and Uruha is a jaunty bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in February

 

 

Something died in his mouth, Ruki’s sure of it.  
  
Face currently smashed into a pillow – that suspiciously lacked the tickle of Koron’s shedding – he wasn’t in the keenest of positions to investigate the tragedy that befell his tongue, so he settled for pushing further into the pillowcase in hopes of suffocating.  The ornery elephant practicing its kickboxing skills against his skull didn’t seem to agree with the idea of passing on peacefully, however, and so he lays there.  Wallowing.  Desperately trying to remember the events that could have led up to him feasting on a corpse or stuffing a carton of used cigarette butts into his mouth.

He furrowed his brow, ignoring the slice of pain that rippled over the skin. 

There was…  some sort of hoopla.  Streamers, maybe?  Something to do with Reita and cake and… 

The screeching of the devil himself began to stab through his brain. 

Blindly reaching out for the end table, Ruki valiantly tried to locate his phone to snap it in half – and later on snap whoever was texting him in half – but his hand landed on something rectangular, too large and bulky to be his precious iPhone.  With curious fingers, he slowly traced over it, not sure if he was fiddling with a bomb device, only to find nothing but a button in the middle.  The bomb theory suddenly seemed not as farfetched and the vocalist was about to lift his head from the pillow when the familiarity struck him.  Ruki paused, the wails of his ringtone muffled against his abrupt confusion.

_…a doorbell?_

Ruki frowned into the pillow before mentally shrugging and moving his hand to the right to follow the vibrations, fingers finally grasping onto the shrill device.  He turned his face to the side and blearily opened his aching eyes to the sharp light of his phone.

_To:  RUKI_   
_From:  KAI_   
_I saw you sitting on top of your cab trying to row back home... Did you make it?_

That wasn’t too promising.

Ruki stared at the message, forehead wrinkling.  With an unsteady thumb and barely-open eyes, he slowly typed:

_To:  KAI_   
_From:  RUKI_   
_The fuck is a doorbell doing here._

It was a good ten seconds after “send” before Ruki realized that probably shouldn’t have been his first question.  

_To:  RUKI_   
_From:  KAI_   
_Then I take it last night was a success.  d(*_ _・ω_ _・*)b♪_

Ruki glared.  Then glared some more for good measure.  He should have known Kai would take a nearly sadistic pleasure on drawing out his temporary (and pulsing and slightly nauseating) amnesia.  The vocalist closed his eyes against the burn of the LCD screen – and Kai’s knack for invoking a shit-eating-grin through whitewashed pixels – burying his nose back into the pillow to sluggishly think. 

There were a lot of people – or at least a lot of voices.  And there was a lot of manhandling to get him to go to wherever it was.  Ruki could at least distinctly remember getting his headphones ripped from his head in the studio and the death-glare-sneer-of-promised-pain combo he sent the culprit’s way.  Which was Uruha.  Or maybe Aoi.  Their hair was too similar now to tell them apart in his blurry, hung-over mind.

Either guitarist would have been appropriate – from being simply oblivious to having a masochistic death-wish.  It was just a matter of whether there was a slouched slope to their shoulders or a cheeky grin aimed his way as they said:

_“Time to come up for air!”_

Ruki held back a growl; all that unfinished work waiting for him at the studio – an undeserving sacrifice in exchange for a black-spotted memory and rancid morning breath. 

Alright, so he was dragged out of the studio by a guitarist.  And there was cake.  And Reita.  Being slightly more apt to alcohol and pirate jokes than usual.  And green tea.  He remembered the green tea quite clearly.  It was just the right temperature and was wrongfully torn from his hands by…  and replaced with… 

And then Uruha was there and he was swinging around a bottle of…

Peeling his tongue off the roof of his mouth, Ruki feebly groaned into the abused pillow with horror, “ _Tequila.”_

He physically recoiled, the mortifying flashes of last night (that may or may not have included him serenading the entire booth on top of the table with a shot glass microphone) barraging him, Ruki promptly tugged himself backwards in an attempt to get away –

\-- only to roll into a warm chest with a surprised grunt.

Fucking tequila.

Said chest jostled awake before Ruki could swan-dive out of the bed and away from any morning-after how-do-you-do’s, a violent snuffle breaking the stilted silence. 

A familiar baritone muttered eloquently, “Moth’fuck.”

Ruki whipped his head around, valiantly trying to ignore the prompt blear of his vision with the motion – finding himself with a face full of Reita. 

It was only then that Ruki suddenly noticed the distinct feeling of long, bristly legs tangled with his own. 

The doorbell suddenly wasn’t the six-hundred-forty-thousand-yen question anymore.

“Start explaining.”  Ruki brusquely demanded to Reita’s squinty, bloodshot eyes.

The bedraggled bassist opened his mouth to either answer all of Ruki’s burning questions, or tell him to fuck off until at least noon – Ruki held his breath, not knowing if Reita feasted on the same dead animal he himself apparently ate with gusto – but was foiled by the loudest, ear-piercing bang of all eternity erupting from the door.

Uruha strolled in with a jaunty gait, aspirin in hand and smirking wide, “Well, that was one way to ring out your 20s.”

Ruki could only stare as Uruha placed the aspirin on the nightstand, not even batting an eye at the doorbell nor the fact Reita and him were currently entangled.  The taller man snorted at the vocalist’s unabashed expression of _what-the-ever-living-fuck_ , surveying the scene with a pleased grin. 

The bastard knew.

Trying not to lean into the soothing warmth at his back, Ruki bit out, “Did that ringing involve a doorbell at any point…”

Uruha rolled his eyes and huffed, “You tell me.  _You’re_ the one who insisted on tearing it off my door when I couldn’t get my keys out fast enough.”  A mischievous glint sparked in the elder’s eye as he turned to duck out of the room, “Something about it cock-blocking you…”

Ruki blinked, aghast.

Reita hummed from behind, obviously amused, and made a point to evilly press his cold toes against Ruki’s calves. 

…So, maybe that serenade wasn’t for the _whole_ booth.

Cringing, Ruki turned around to face the damage and maybe grovel a little before he got his face punched in for making a pass at his best friend because he wasn’t one for royally fucking up something precious just to see if it could be more – no matter how many lyrics were born of it, no matter how obvious it was in between the lines with every note and passing glance. 

But Reita was grinning, shoulders shaking with mirth, as he drawled out a lazy, “Happy Birthday, lightweight.”

The stricken, rigid lines on Ruki’s face slowly softened, lips tilting into a smirk.  Reita punched him in the arm.

And that was that.

Because Ruki wasn’t enough of a sap to lean in and start shit.  His lips were chapped as charred Hell and Reita’s breath was still possibly toxic and –

“Get a room.  A different one.”  Aoi’s gravelly, sleep-laden voice growled from behind Reita. 

\-- and tequila and doorbells weren’t the only cock-blockers around.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: February 1st, 2012


End file.
